


A Homage to Shirley Barber

by scoradh



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoradh/pseuds/scoradh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little story about Brendon the flower fairy and Jon the brownie.</p><p>Written in May 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Homage to Shirley Barber

Brendon, shivering and miserable, huddled in the tiny rim of shelter provided by the toadstool. One of his wings was shedding sparkles at an alarming rate. He was afraid to move it, not just because it hurt - and it did, a lot - but because of what it would mean to be stranded alone and flightless in a strange part of the forest. _And_ it was raining.  
  
Brendon was sure it never rained so hard at home. Then again, home was a golden hollow carved into a knoll starred with wildflowers all year round, thanks to a little fairy magic. Here, Brendon couldn't see a single flower. The only colours were the red of the toadstool - which made it pretty clear that this toadstool wasn't for eating - and a whole spectrum of brown, from mossy-green taupe to the black of rotted branches and dead beetles.  
  
The rain pelted down in hard, almost solid blobs. Brendon couldn't see further than the trunk of the tree on whose branch he'd come to grief. He reflected sadly that there was no point in being the fastest flier in the hollow if he out flew anyone who could rescue him. Even his parents had got used to him venturing to the furthest bounds of the forest and staying away for hours at a time. It was his own fault that no one would think to look for him till after it was dark. And maybe not even then. The thought of spending the night in this dank, tangled grove made him shiver even harder.  
  
A sudden movement caught his eye and shoved his heart into his mouth. Brendon sank back against the pale stalk of the mushroom, hoping it would provide some kind of camouflage. When the movement shifted into a person, stepping lightly towards him across the swathe of dead leaves, Brendon remembered that creamy white wouldn't do much to disguise bright yellow.   
  
"Please don't hurt me," he said. On balance, it was probably one of the stupider things he could have said - proving his weakness to a potential predator - but it was still the most important thing in his mind at that moment.  
  
The creature laughed. Brendon relaxed a little. No one with a laugh like that could be all bad.   
  
"I'm not going to hurt you," it said. "In fact, I was coming to see if you wanted help. But if you're good -"  
  
"No," said Brendon hastily. "Um. Could you come closer? I can't really see through the rain."  
  
"Sure." The leaves rustled as the creature came to stand beside Brendon. "Better?"  
  
Brendon stuck out his hand. "I'm Brendon, the buttercup fairy," he said.  
  
"I know," said the creature, looking suddenly shy as it took Brendon's hand. "I mean, I've seen you before. Plus, the petals are a little hard to miss."  
  
Brendon looked down at today's outfit - a tunic made of buttercup petals and pants of woven moss. His feet were turning blue - he wasn't used to being still when it was so cold.   
  
"I'm Jon," the creature continued. When he let go of Brendon's hand, he left a brown mark. That was when Brendon finally got a clue.  
  
"You're a brownie!" he exclaimed in delight. Jon ducked his head in assent. Brendon had never met a brownie before and what was more, he didn't know anyone else who had. It was a stroke of luck, although Brendon kind of wished he hadn't had to injure his wing to get it. At the thought of his wing, it fluttered involuntarily and he winced.  
  
"You're hurt!" exclaimed Jon. "You better come with me. I have some salves in my tree, and you don't want to be out here after dark." He lowered his voice and twitched his head from side to side before saying, "There are _foxes_ around here."  
  
Brendon let out a squeak and grabbed Jon's hand. Jon seemed surprised at this, but he didn't let go as he led Brendon out into the rain.  
  
Brendon got very wet, very quickly, and it occurred to him that he was maybe trusting Jon a little too soon. Just as he was contemplating making a run for it - even though he hadn't run anywhere since he was a little baby, with stubby baby wings that didn't work - Jon ushered him into a crack in the bole of a fallen tree.  
  
Inside it was muggily warm and, more importantly, dry. The space within was small, but Jon had furniture made of acorn cups and pebbles. It was cosy, if not as luxurious as what Brendon was used to.   
  
Jon sat Brendon down on a large stone covered in soft moss - clearly his best seat - while he fussed around, pulling down bits of bark and cobweb sacks from cleverly disguised niches in the walls. Brendon watched in fascination as Jon gathered together various herbs on a bark platter and collected water to mix them together.  
  
"Can you stretch out your wing?"  
  
Brendon nodded, but tears stung his eyes as he extended his injured wing to its fullest span. Jon took in a little breath. Even dull and crumbling, the sight of all the golden and yellow spots was pretty impressive. Brendon usually envied Ryan his wings, which were iridescent white shot with silver, but the way Jon looked at Brendon's wings made him feel a delighted squirm in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Before Jon did anything else, he fiddled with the front of his chest. What Brendon had thought was hair or some kind of hoary coating came away, and Jon was left standing in gossamer-fine pants. He did the same to his head and revealed curly brown hair under a rough, matted cap. His hands and feet were still incredibly grubby, but Jon went to the entrance of the hole and held out his hands until the pouring rain washed them clean.  
  
Brendon bit his lip as Jon gently took his wing between both his cool, wet hands. Jon was nearly as pretty as a fairy. Or - pretty was the wrong word. No one was prettier than Ryan, who did tend to lord it over everyone because he was the snowdrop fairy, and couldn't do anything difficult or dirty in case he stopped looking pure and white. But Brendon liked Jon's face, especially his beard. Fairies weren't supposed to grow beards, even if they could - and Spencer was the only one who could. He'd shaved it off since he started courting, because Hayley's wild rose family were notoriously traditional.  
  
Before he considered resisting the temptation, Brendon reached out and stroked Jon's beard. It was soft and rough at the same time. Jon jumped, his hands jolting on Brendon's wing and making him cry out.  
  
"Sorry, sorry," muttered Jon. Who was blushing. Brendon forgot his pain in delight at the high colour splashed across Jon's cheeks, and decided that Jon _was_ prettier than Ryan, if in a different way.  
  
Brendon decided not to play with Jon's beard while he was tending to Brendon's injury, though. Instead, he concentrated on the focused swipes of Jon's salve-smeared hands down the spines of Brendon's wing. Jon's fingers found all the little kinks and joints, and Brendon shivered with pleasure under the dulling pain.   
  
"There," said Jon softly. "You'll have to wait a little while for it to work."  
  
"It already feels better," gloated Brendon. "Thank you so much." He tried flapping his wing and was rewarded with a brief shower of glitter. It settled on Jon's hair and face, making him glow. Brendon giggled.  
  
"Whoops," he said. He brushed it off, letting himself have another quick feel of Jon's beard.   
  
"I think you missed some." Jon ran his hand through his hair. It came out with a layer of glitter. He held it out to Brendon, clenching his fingers so as not to spill a single drop. Brendon wrinkled his nose.  
  
"It's okay, you can keep it," he said.  
  
"Really?" Jon's eyes lit up. He practically ran to a niche to get out a cobweb bag, into which he carefully emptied his palmful of glitter. "This is wonderful. Fairy magic works so much better than mine at healing."  
  
"Oh?" Brendon fluttered a little, just enough to lift the weight off his feet and bring him closer to Jon. "I didn't know that."  
  
"Well, fairies aren't the ones people go to when they're hurt," said Jon matter-of-factly, like this was something everyone knew. Brendon hadn't known. He let his feet drop back to the floor. "I have a little magic, but one pinch of this will speed up anything I try to do."  
  
"Do you want some more?" asked Brendon. "It's the least I can do."  
  
Jon stiffened. "I can't ask that of you."  
  
"But it's no problem," argued Brendon. "If you hadn't found me I might have been eaten by a fox. Or caught a _cold_."  
  
Jon quirked a smile. "I'm sure you would have been fine."  
  
Brendon buttoned his lip. It was clear that Jon was as stubborn as Spencer, and then some. So Brendon gave up discussing and picked doing instead.   
  
Jon didn't notice at first when Brendon started spinning, not until he was whipping around so fast that Jon's amazed face blurred. Gold dust smeared Brendon's vision, so he shut his eyes and crumpled to a heap. He probably shouldn't have tried to do so much when his wing still ached.  
  
"Oh, Brendon." And Jon's arms were around Brendon's waist, holding him against Jon's chest. Brendon nuzzled into the warm, spiky skin of Jon's neck. "You didn't have to do that."  
  
Brendon waved a hand and all the fairy dust formed a neat spiral, tipping itself into a pyramid on Jon's sawn-thorn table. He yawned a little. "Do you mind if I take a nap?"  
  
"Of course not." With no effort whatsoever, Jon lifted Brendon and carried him in his arms through a curtain of more gossamer-fine. He laid him on a bed of fresh moss and leaves. There were even a few flower petals for softness, just like at home. Brendon briefly wondered where Jon had got them before he fell asleep.  
  
He woke to the sound of low, thrumming voices. He heard his own name, which was what made him creep to the curtain and peer out instead of just zooming in, like he would at home.  
  
A small, bristling squirrel was sitting at Jon's table. Jon looked composed, sipping from a tiny wooden cup, but his eyebrows were drawn too close together for Brendon's liking.  
  
"I'm just saying," said the squirrel, "that they're not to be trusted. Fairies! Pah." It spat on the floor.  
  
"Hey," protested Jon, "this isn't the Nut Bar, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, it's a palace," snorted the squirrel. "When will you get it through your thick head that the fairies don't have anything to do with us out of choice? They think they're better than everyone because of their stupid wings. You know who else has wings? Flies. And buzzards." He made to spit again, but the look on Jon's face stopped him.  
  
Brendon must have made a noise, because Jon looked up and went white. "Brendon! Are you - how are you feeling?"  
  
Brendon managed a weak smile. "Fine, thanks. I'm sorry for taking your bed."   
  
The squirrel snorted again, and Jon sad hurriedly, "Would you like some tea? It's only nettle, but -"  
  
"Awesome. Nettle is my favourite!" Brendon glided over to sit at Jon's side of the table. Only the barest thrill of pain remained in his wing, and he smiled properly as he told Jon so.  
  
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Jon said quietly.  
  
"Yeah, so you can just fly back to your pretty little hollow now, huh?" said the squirrel snidely. Brendon shrunk into the shelter of his wings.  
  
"Tom!" Jon sounded genuinely angry. The squirrel subsided, muttering.  
  
"Maybe I should get going," said Brendon in a small voice. "It's dark, and my parents might be worrying."  
  
"You shouldn’t go unless you feel you can fly all the way," instructed Jon. "I can't be certain of finding you if this happens again."  
  
"Don't be so sure," the squirrel drawled at Brendon. "He follows you around all the time." Jon went bright red. Brendon looked at him in confusion.  
  
"Tom," said Jon. His voice was so strangled that one word was all he could get out.   
  
"I get it, I get it." The squirrel held up his paws. He flicked out of the tree trunk. Jon was staring fixedly at the floor, so he didn't see the puzzling wink the squirrel shot in Brendon's direction.  
  
Brendon stood up and put his hand on Jon's slumped shoulder. There were tiny freckles on his bare skin. Brendon had heard stories that brownies broke the canopy, to return baby birds to their nests and collect pollens in summertime. Brendon was regarded as one of the most adventurous of the fairies, but even he had never broken the canopy.  
  
"What did he mean?" whispered Brendon. "Do you follow me?"  
  
"No!" Jon sighed. "Well, only sometimes." He tilted back on his pebble, eyes closed. "You don't know what it's like, okay? My father taught me the healing magics. He'd sometimes go near the fairy hollow to see if there was any dust dropped there - there usually wasn't, because you guys are pretty careful like that."  
  
"Why didn't you just ask us?"  
  
Jon opened his eyes. His gaze seared through Brendon's skull. "We did. Tom's mother was sick, really sick, when his little sister was born. We did everything we could and nothing worked, so we went to this fairy called Ross - he was all white - and he just. He just laughed at us, and said squirrels dying was of no concern to him. That if half of the forest's squirrels died right there it wouldn't be much loss." Jon's throat worked as he swallowed. "She died that night. So I guess he got his wish."  
  
"I didn't know," said Brendon. "I swear, Jon, I didn't know - Ryan's father isn't -"  
  
Jon put one brown hand over Brendon's pale one. "It's okay. I'm sure most fairies aren't purposely cruel, but - well. Most of you are careless. Anyway." He rubbed his eyes. "Before that, like I said, Dad used to take me over to the hollow. And I'd see you guys, playing in the sunlight. You were all so beautiful, I was sick with jealousy. But you were my favourite. The blue one -"  
  
"Spencer," said Brendon, feeling a little dazed. "The Spencers all have blue eyes from the bluebells. That's the legend."  
  
"- and the white one were gorgeous, but I liked you best. Buttercups are such happy flowers and you always seemed so happy too, even if half the time you were tumbling out of the air or flying into branches or something."  
  
"Yup, that's me," said Brendon.  
  
"You are kind of accident prone," Jon conceded. "But it was cute. And when my dad died and I took over the healing tree, I used to go back to the hollow way more than I needed just to watch you. I worried about you - it's stupid, I know - but you always seemed to be getting hurt. I would never have talked to you, of course, except that today you really needed help -"  
  
"No, no." Brendon grabbed Jon's arm. "I wish you had. Talked to me, I mean. I love Ryan and Spencer, but they do kind of think they're better than me. There are loads of buttercup fairies and only a few bluebells and hardly any snowdrops. I always fly farther than I should just in case I find something else, and today I did, I found _you._ "  
  
Brendon had never kissed anyone in his life. Fairies could only kiss other fairies in daylight so the combined energy of their fairy dust didn't bring every creature in a five mile radius in to investigate the flash fire. Brendon had never wanted to kiss a fairy. He wanted to kiss Jon, though, a lot, so he clumsily pulled Jon's face towards his and pressed their lips together.  
  
Jon was stiff beneath him for a terrifying five seconds. Then he melted into the kiss, his lips parting and his hands settling warm on Brendon's hips. As the kiss deepened, Brendon could fell his wings shiver and then beat, more and more strongly. He didn't notice when his feet left the floor, as it was more natural to him to feel air than ground, but Jon gasped and his nails dug into Brendon's flesh. Brendon broke the kiss to giggle and run his fingers through Jon's beard.  
  
"Do you have some kind of thing for my beard?" asked Jon breathlessly.  
  
"Yeah." Brendon rubbed his cheek against the soft scruff on Jon's jaw. "Can I kiss you again?"  
  
"I don't know why you _stopped_ ," said Jon, and Brendon smiled and leaned in. Jon's toes found Brendon's toes and curled around them.   
  
Brendon really liked being kissed. _Really_ liked it, and his wings were doing things he hadn't even known they could. They swirled around Jon, keeping him afloat so Brendon could wind one hand in the little curls on Jon's neck and press the other flat against the warm skin of Jon's lower back. Jon was still clutching Brendon a little fearfully, but his tongue was certain and determined as it licked into Brendon's mouth.  
  
When they finally floated back down, the room was entirely obscured by a mist of fairy dust, the brightest gold Brendon had ever seen.  
  
"It's dazzling," said Jon. He hid his eyes in Brendon's shoulder. Brendon laughed and waved his hand where Jon couldn't see.  
  
"I really better go," he said reluctantly. "But I can come back, can't I?"  
  
"Please," was all Jon said to that.  
  
"You should visit me, too," said Brendon, but they both knew that wouldn't happen any time soon. Brendon kissed Jon's nose in farewell and left him smiling and dazed on the floor.  
  
As Brendon flew away, tiny baby buttercups were already unfurling all over Jon's log.

**Author's Note:**

> Next week, in the Rachel's Insane Mind Show, Brendon and Jon are married by a unicorn with a family of squirrels for bridesmaids. In a rose garden.


End file.
